


Its Not About the Sex

by Res



Series: I Love You [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-03
Updated: 2004-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Res/pseuds/Res
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron discuss their sexual attraction, their sexual preferences and how they came to be partners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Its Not About the Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of the “I Love You” series; comes after _**Latent**_.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine! No profit! Please don't sue me... I'm already broke.
> 
> Notes: Came about from a thought about my Harry and Ron from Learning to Swim, and how they felt about each other. Mix in Ninglor’s phrase of ‘Joey-sexual’ from her Toy Soldiers series, and a good long think about it in the shower, followed by a day as a temp receptionist, and... Ta-da! Many thanks to lj user sneezer222 and lj user lardencelover for betaing!

“It’s not about the sex, you know.”

“Mmm?” The black-haired head lifted groggily from the overstuffed back of the armchair it’s owner was currently sprawled in. Harry shifted his bleary eyes from the flames in the hearth and looked down at his companion, who was collapsed back against his chair, long legs stretching toward the fire. They’d had several friends over for a rare ‘guy’s night’, and were slowly unwinding after everyone else had gone home. Shifting his ale bottle to his other hand, Harry gently touched the ginger hair, eyes caught by the dancing amber lights caused by the firelight. “What d’you mean, Ron?”

The redhead looked up, putting his own ale bottle on the floor next to him to reach up and entwine his fingers with Harry’s. Giving them a light squeeze, he stroked the side of Harry’s palm with his thumb before responding. “’S somethin’ Seamus said, t’other day.” His mossy-green eyes focused blearily on the fire again as Ron frowned in thought. “We went out to the Three Broomsticks, after that meeting with Dumbledore, you remember?”

Harry nodded, “Last week? Yeah.” He tipped his ale up for a drink, then frowned at the empty bottle. “Hrmph.” He dropped the bottle gently beside his chair, gazing into the fire again. “What’d he say?”

Ron tightened his fingers in Harry’s again, resting their entwined hands on his own head as he swallowed the last of his own ale, reaching around to set the empty bottle with Harry’s. “’Nother one?” he offered, holding up his wand left-handed, and peering hazily over his shoulder at Harry.

Harry thought about it fuzzily for a moment. Maybe a bit more than a moment, as it would be his fifth ale that Ron was offering to fetch, but.... “M’kay,” he agreed. “One more.”

Ron nodded and, giving his wand a clumsy flick, said “ _Accio_ ale.” Two bottles zipped out of their kitchenette and smacked loudly into Ron’s chest, clinking together as they fell to the floor. “Oops.” Carefully untangling his fingers from Harry’s and putting his wand back in his robes, Ron reached after the rolling bottles, catching them up and handing one over his head to Harry before popping the top on his own. Taking a deep drink, he said, more clearly than had been his wont so far this evening, “Seamus said that he’d never have figured me for a bloke kinda bloke.” He took another drink, and leaned back, into Harry’s legs. “We were talking about this girl...beaut’ful girl,” he looked up at Harry, upside down. “You would’a liked her, Harry. Beaut’ful. Hair down t’ here, boobs like...like this!” Ron gestured sloppily with his hands, nearly spilling his ale in his enthusiasm. “Beaut’ful.”

“Mmm. Beau’f’l,” agreed Harry. “W’as got w’t Seamus?” He took a thoughtful sip of his own ale, resting his hand on Ron’s head again, fingers stroking lightly through the ginger strands.

“M’right, Seamus,” Ron jerked his wandering attention away from the memory of the beautiful girl and back to the subject they were discussing. “We were talkin’ ‘bout this girl, beaut’ful girl,” Ron glanced back up at Harry, confiding, then looked back at the fire, tipping his head slightly as he leaned into the caress of Harry’s fingers. “An’ Seamus, he says, Seamus says, ‘But, Ron, yer wi’t Harry. You don’ like girls.’ And I says, ‘Seamus, where’d you get that idea?’”

“Strange idea,” Harry agreed, still lightly petting the red hair under his fingers, then shifting around to sit sideways in the overstuffed armchair, draping one arm over Ron’s shoulder and chest. “She blonde?” He rested his head on the arm of the chair and relaxed as Ron’s hand came up to gently grasp the fingers against his chest. Harry smiled and squeezed them gently. “Was, wasn’t she?” He watched as the ears on the head next to him turned brilliant red and chuckled softly.

“And we talked about it a little,” Ron plowed on determinedly, ignoring the question. “And Seamus, he says ‘Never would have figured you for a bloke kind bloke, ‘cept, then you went and hooked up wi’t Harry.’” He rolled his head back, then around, trying to see Harry, but couldn’t quite manage it without moving, so he settled for giving Harry’s fingers another squeeze, and leaning slightly sideways to rest his head on Harry’s bicep.

Harry smiled, and took another drink of his ale. “Wha’ you say t’that?”

Ron tipped his head back and took a long pull on his bottle, feeling Harry’s arm against his throat as the muscles worked with each swallow. Dropping the nearly empty bottle to the floor, fingers curled loosely around it to keep it upright, he leaned into Harry’s arm again before he answered. “I said...,” he sighed and snuggled comfortably against the warm arm, rubbing it with his cheek. “I said, ‘I’m not really a bloke kinda bloke. I’m more of a Harry kinda bloke.’ ‘Oh,’ he said, and we kinda left it at that.”

Harry tucked his bottle beside his hip, against the back of the chair, and reached over to stroke Ron’s head. “A Harry kinda bloke? Wha’d’y’ mean by that?” he asked, curiously.

“Well, now, y’see, that’s what I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” Ron exclaimed enthusiastically, suddenly gesturing loudly with his ale. “Ev’r since he asked, I been thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“And?” Harry asked, reaching out to rescue the ale before his partner spilled what was left of it, tucking the nearly empty bottle with his own, against the back of the chair.

Ron turned inside Harry’s arm, half following the kidnapped ale bottle, until he was able to look Harry in the eye comfortably. “That’s what I meant -- it’s not about the sex.” Ron leaned closer into the chair, moss green eyes wide as he tried to explain. He rested his chin on the cushion, continuing, “See -- if it was just about the sex, I’d probably be shacked up with Hermione -- or maybe that blonde Hufflepuff, you know? That Hannah Abbott girl.”

Harry nodded, trying not to smile at Ron’s earnest expression.

“And if I was a bloke kinda bloke, I might’ve gone after Seamus, y’see?” Ron lowered his voice, as if divulging a great secret, “I mean, he’s a nice enough looking fella, and fun to be with, y’know?”

Harry nodded again. Seamus was a rather nice looking fellow, and a proven fun-guy.

“But, y’see, that’s not wha’ it’s ‘bout, y’see.” Ron frowned, considering. “Cause, y’know, there’s lot’s a folk I’d shag, if that’s what it was about.... But it’s not about shaggin’ ‘em. It’s ‘bout....” Ron’s eyes suddenly focused on Harry, the pupils widening as his voice deepened and grew rough, even as his words and tone became more sober. “It’s ‘bout...the way you look when you’ve had a bit too much to drink, like now. How your cheeks get all pink, an’ your face very white. It’s ‘bout...how you don’t much like to be touched by anyone...anyone except me; you melt right int’ me when I touch you. It’s ‘bout...how you pet m’hair when you are feeling quiet,” he leaned into the stroking touch, turning to nuzzle a kiss into Harry’s palm before continuing, “an’ how you always snuggle into m’arms when we sleep, no matter how hot it is, or how cold.”

Harry smiled, cheeks pinking even more, and Ron grinned. “It’s ‘bout how strong you are, an’ how gentle. How you get angry, an’ what you get angry ‘bout, an’ what makes you happy, an’ what makes you sad. It’s ‘bout how you look playing Quidditch in the rain,” Ron grinned even more as Harry’s blush deepened and he looked away. Ron reached up and hooked gentle fingers under Harry’s chin, bringing Harry around to face him again. He took a deep breath, then said, “It’s ‘bout how you support me when I need you, an’ how you let me help you when I can. An’ how you make me feel like I’m helpful an’ smart, an’ _worth_ something. It’s ‘bout...,” Ron’s voice drifted off as he blushed under the intense look Harry gave him.

“...It’s about how you always know when I’m happy, and I always know when you are sad,” Harry whispered. “And how I always know you’ll be there when I need you, no matter what.”

“Right,” whispered Ron. “An’ how you give me everything you have, an’ you never seem to care if I have nothing to pay you back wi--“

“You don’t need to pay me back; you don’t owe me anything!” Harry interrupted.

“Exactly.” Ron snuggled into the corner of the chair cushion and the overstuffed arm, reaching up to rest his hand on Harry’s hip, feeling the lean strength of it through the denim of his jeans. “It’s about how everything is _ours_ , and nothing is _yours_ or _mine_....”

Harry leaned a little closer, smiling gently as he added, “Except that I am _yours_ \--“

“And I am _yours_ ,” Ron pressed in closer, until they were almost touching forehead to forehead. “I might be a bird kinda bloke, if I didn’t have you, or I might be a bloke kinda bloke...but, with you, it doesn’t matter. When it’s all said and done -- I’m a Harry kinda bloke.”

Harry let out his breath in a ragged sigh, then whispered, “I guess that means I’m a Ron kinda bloke, then. You’re right...it’s not about the sex, at all....” Slowly, he slid forward until their foreheads touched, then he reached out and cupped the back of Ron’s head, pulling him forward and up into a soft kiss.

Ron savoured the kiss for a long moment, then broke it with a soft sigh, blinking and smiling up at Harry. His eyes lit with roguish good humour as he pulled himself to his feet, then dragged Harry up after him, pulling him into another long, deep, wet kiss, neither of them noticing as the ale bottles in the chair rolled over and fell with a clunk and a splash to the floor. Ron kissed Harry breathless, walking him backward toward their bedroom, then pressed him up against the wall and kissed him again until Harry groaned into his mouth, fingers tightening in his shirt as Harry fought to pull him closer yet.

Breaking the kiss with a groan of his own, Ron smiled down at the other, pressing their foreheads together as he whispered, “But you have to admit, the sex is fantastic,” before kissing Harry’s startled laughter away and dragging him into the bedroom.

End


End file.
